


To Love A Killer

by xfandomwritingsx



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 02:40:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16884096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xfandomwritingsx/pseuds/xfandomwritingsx
Summary: A brief look into how you start your relationship with Peter.





	To Love A Killer

**Author's Note:**

> Someone on Tumblr requested I upload this story to my AO3 so here it is!

You met after his resurrection. You had managed to get yourself caught up in the middle of the whole giant lizard debacle and after the shock and confusion of what the hell was happening wore off, made quick friends with Scott’s pack. You had seen him once before in the final battle where you found out the giant lizard thing was Jackson and he was suddenly cured or something, (Okay, you didn’t keep up with it well, but it was a lot to take in!) but you didn’t actually _meet_ until a few weeks later at Derek’s loft.

 

You walked in and he was there just sitting on the couch. Everyone brushed him off and ignored him, going right for Derek to discuss things you still weren’t caught up on. You, on the other hand, couldn’t ignore him. He was looking at you as you stood awkwardly at the side of the couch, unsure if you were supposed to follow the rest of the pack to Derek or wait here like the outsider you were pretty sure you were.

 

He was attractive. That was of course the first thing you noticed. It had been hard to notice in battle, but now with the time to actually look at him, it hit you like a wave. Chiseled jaw, tight shirt outlining muscled arms, piercing eyes that looked right at you, lips that tilted into a smirk. If you were in an old movie, you’d start fanning yourself right about now. 

“Peter,” he suddenly said. His voice didn’t do anything to take away from the amount of attractiveness oozing out of him. In fact, it made you feel hot and dizzy.

“What?” you asked stupidly, realizing you didn’t quite comprehend what he said because you were so focused on the way it sounded. He chuckled and again, it did nothing to make him less attractive. You forced yourself to focus.

“My name. Peter Hale.” That seemed to snap you out of your haze.

“Oh!” you said, shaking your head to clear it. “Hale? Related to Derek?” He looked about to respond when Stiles came back to you.

“He’s Derek’s uncle. He’s also a psychotic murderer.” _That_ made him less attractive. Murderer? Not exactly on your list of top qualities in a man. Your eyes widened as you looked between Stiles and Peter waiting for an explanation of some kind.

“I may have killed a few people here and there.” He said it with such an air of casualness that it sent a chill through you. “But they killed my whole family first. Can you blame me?” Okay, it sounded like a decent excuse if you stretched it a bit. Stiles didn’t look impressed though. He stared at Peter dead panned.

“You murdered your own niece to get her power.” Aaaand back to scary. Peter simply shrugged.

“I was in a different state of mind.” He turned his head to look straight at you and smiled in a way that simultaneously chilled you and heated you. “I’m better now.” Stiles rolled his eyes, which was not comforting, and came over to grab you.

“C’mon,” he said walking you over to the group. “Let’s try to keep you away from too much crazy.” You looked back at Peter as you were herded away and he was eyeing you up and down with that smirk. He flashed you a wink and you tried to remind yourself that murderers aren’t attractive.

—

Your next significant encounter happened a few weeks later. You had seen each other here and there, but kept interaction to a minimal. You have to admit it was hard not to look. He kept wearing tight shirts and jeans that outlined him too well not to notice. It was okay to just _look_ at the psychotic murderer, right? That wasn’t against your moral rules? It never helped that he kept looking at you too.

You had been involved in a meeting to create a plan to rescue two of the pack members from an Alpha pack. You weren’t actually involved in the plan of attack itself, but you wanted to help. You thought maybe you might be able to see something they didn’t. As you all gathered around the table, Peter sat on the stairs, being pretty much useless, telling all of you it was a waste of time and it was better to let them die.

Honestly, that’s when a lot of the attraction went away for you. Physically, he was gorgeous. But as a person? He was a dick and not in the “hot bad boy” way. You got angry hearing him talk and say things about letting these people die. You glared at him in disbelief and started to ignore him after that.

When the pack had made their plan and started scattering, you stayed over the table, looking over the maps and the outlines and trying to find _something._ Something just didn’t sit right with you, you just couldn’t figure out exactly what it was. Peter had been sitting on the stairs, watching you as you went over everything.

“Problem?” he asked as he pushed himself up and walked over to you. You were so entranced by the maps that you barely even noticed him when he pressed his side close to yours.

“Something doesn’t fit. There’s a better way in or we’re missing something,” you mused aloud.

“The entire plan doesn’t fit,” he sounded almost amused. “It’s a suicide mission to rescue bodies.” Without looking at him, you took your arm and hit him in the chest with it. It barely fazed him, he didn’t even make any sort of an “oomph” sound, but you saw out of the corner of your eye that he looked down confused, surprised even.

“Shut up,” you told him firmly. “I knew these kids back before they got mixed up with all you people. They’re bringing them back and if you’re not going to help, then you should leave.” You turned your head to look at him and he looked back at you with a look full of a seriousness you didn’t think he had. He dropped his chin in a nod and shifted his eyes past you to the plans.

You spent a few minutes silently looking over the plans and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. His arm was only inches from your own and you could smell his cologne, something earthy and deep, intoxicating. It was starting to get distracting.

“Where exactly are they entering from?” His voice broke you from a haze you were starting to fall into. You moved your hand and pointed to the spot the pack had decided on.

“They’ll go in from here and then travel this path.” You let your hand trace the path marked in red highlighter. Peter reached out and put his hand over yours, stopping your movement. The touch startled you at first and you jumped just the slightest bit.

“There’s the problem,” he said, his voice had gone deeper, more serious in his tone. You swallowed hard as his hand wrapped fully around yours. It was warm and nearly engulfed your small hand. He held on gently, but with enough pressure to move your hand back to the start of the red highlighter path, gliding it across the paper. “That should be their exit route, not their entry route. If they enter this way instead,” he moved your hand again, stretching your arms across the table and leaning into your shoulder. “They have a better chance of not being caught and-“

“And leaves the previous strategy open for an escape,” you finished, looking over the paths again, impressed that he had found it. He turned his head to look at you.

“Exactly.” His voice was quiet and low, almost whispering in your ear. You turned to look at him as well and there was a moment. A moment where you realized he was still holding your hand in his, no longer pointing it anywhere and letting it fall back towards your bodies to rest comfortably. A moment where his eyes brushed over your lips and it was suddenly hard to swallow. A moment where you felt comfortable with this man pressed against your body. A moment where all the attraction came flooding back. A moment, just one single half a second of a moment, where all of this happened and then it was over. “Go tell them then,” he said in that low whisper and moved away from you slowly.

You watched him, trying to figure him out. He raised his eyebrows at you and you weren’t sure if it was meant to be suggestive or if he was just motioning for you to go and tell the pack what you had discovered. As he slid back into his place on the stairs, eerily slipping into a well placed shadow, he said, “See? I’m not all bad.”

—

A couple months passed and things continued like they had. You learned the ropes of the supernatural and things were starting to make more and more sense around Beacon Hills. You continued to fight an attraction to Peter and you quickly found you were losing it. Coming into the fray when you did made a murderer seem almost normal. Everyone seemed to have blood on their hands and not everyone who did was bad.

Peter continued to hang around. He fought with the pack, defended them, helped them. Everyone was starting to treat him as more of an ally which made it really difficult to try to remember why no one liked him and why you were supposed to steer clear, especially when it seemed like he made the effort to be near you.

He would sit next to you purposefully in pack meetings. There were plenty of other seats to choose from, but he always sat by you and he sat close. If you were on the couch, your legs would end up touching and what’s worse, you found yourself initiating the contact. You had gotten comfortable around him. Before meetings started, you’d talk. You’d flirt. And during those meetings, when you were supposed to be paying attention to what was said, you found yourself focused on the fact that Peter slung his arm onto the back of the couch and was gently playing with your hair or making soft, little circles on your shoulder. You focused on casually moving your knees apart to press your leg against his. You focused on placing your hand on the very outside edge of your thigh so that your fingertips could brush his jeans. You focused on how he pushed back at you and how every now and again, he’d lean down to whisper something semi-related and usually semi-suggestive into your ear and the way his warm breath sent tingles down your neck. You started to look forward to pack meetings.

Then there was the one time he ran into you at the gym, because of course he would go to the gym when you were there. You had your hair pulled up and you were sweaty and gross and frustrated at the world that day. You were punching and kicking at a punching bag, half trying to improve your technique and half trying to just make it explode.  You didn’t see him until his hands were on your hips. He held you close, pressed his body against your so you couldn’t turn around and hit him like he knew you were going to do.

“Just me,” he whispered in your ear and the heart attack that almost started when he touched you retracted itself.

“Jesus, Peter,” you breathed out. “You scared the hell out of me.” He chuckled in your ear and you had to smile a little. He didn’t respond, but you felt him press his lips against your ear and smirk. He kept holding you to him and you realized he was shirtless. Being only in your sports bra, you could feel his hot skin against your back. The feel of it, the realization, made you melt a little. You let your body relax into him and he chuckled again.

“Try this,” he whispered as he let go of your hips and touched your shoulders. He pushed them so they were squared off and then slid his hands down your arms to grab your hands. He lifted them up and you instinctively formed your hands into fists. “Move your whole body.” He extended your right hand and while he did, he pressed his right side into yours, pivoting your body the way he wanted. He repeated on the left. You felt his hips press into you, his chest, his pelvis, everything.

When he was seemingly satisfied with the punches, he brought both hands back into the neutral position in front of you. He nuzzled into your neck for a moment before whispering in your ear again.

“Feel better?” he growled. You hummed back at him and tilted your head back to rest it on his shoulder. The heat growing inside of you was coming out to the surface.

“Feel something,” you answered, your own voice a little huskier than you intended. You took the opportunity to push your ass back into his pelvis and grind back just a little. He let out a low growl in your ear and you could feel him hardening beneath you. “Definitely feel something.”

“Tease,” he said and you laughed slightly. No one had ever called you that before. “You’re lucky we’re in public.” He pushed his bottom half forward to move with your grind.

“Too bad,” you mused, eyes half closed, enjoying the feel of him. He suddenly spun you around to face him and you could see his eyes glazed over with lust as he takes you in, running his hands up and down your arms.

“Don’t tempt me,” he warned and you detect just the slightest bit of sincerity in there, as if he really didn’t want you to take him up on what he could offer. It made you retreat.

“Well then I should get back home, shouldn’t I?” you posed it as an actual question masked under the flirtatious tone. He let go of you and nodded slowly.

“You probably should.”

—

You aren’t exactly sure who technically made the first move the following week. Yes, he kissed you first, but you’re the one who went over to his apartment and knocked on his door. You had driven him home one night after a meeting and you remembered where he lived pretty well.

He was surprised to see you standing at his doorstep, but it looked to be a pleasant one. He smirked at you and leaned on the doorframe.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, chuckling.

“Just wanted to see what you were up to,” you admitted honestly. You had absolutely no plan here. You found yourself longing to see him, fantasizing about what would have happened if you hadn’t of backed away at the gym. You wanted to be around him. “I brought food in case you’re hungry.” You held up a plastic bag with takeout containers inside.

“Well in that case,” he laughed and stepped aside to let you in. You smiled at him as you entered, making sure to wipe your feet on the rug. His place was impressive. He had money, that was for sure. Large paintings, large rooms, decorative rugs, a book collection to die for. “A bit different from Derek’s loft,” he commented when he saw you looking around. You smiled back at him. 

“I like it much better.” You’re not sure if it sounded flirty or not, but he smiled at you either way. “You just hang out here all day?”

“Not all day,” he said, walking closer to you.

“Ah yes,” you casually smirked at him. “You stalk girls at the gym sometimes too.” The perfect transition into where you wanted to go with him. He kept walking closer to you until he was _right_ there.

“Just certain girls,” he said, reaching up to brush your hair behind your ear and cup your face in his palm. “Really just this one, smart, feisty, gorgeous woman,” With each word he leaned toward you, making your body heat up. He didn’t lean down all the way though. He stopped and grabbed your hip, pulling your body against his again. “She does things to me,” he whispered. Your throat was getting dry and he ground himself into you much like you had done at the gym. “Makes me _feel_ things.” You can feel him hardening again. “Makes it hard to hold back.” 

There it was. That way out if you wanted it. You told yourself you wouldn’t take it this time. You had thought about it. You wanted him. His crimes were behind him and he made you feel crazy every time you were around him. You were tempted by him and you wanted to give in. You trusted him enough not to kill you and that’s all you needed at the moment.

“Then stop holding back,” you told him.

 The kiss came fast and hard. The food you were holding dropped to the floor and spilled out into its plastic bag, but neither of you cared. His lips were hot against yours and his hand on your face slid behind your head to pull at your hair, making you moan into him. His other hand slid around behind you and cupped your ass, pulling you flush against him. Your own hands wrapped around his neck tight.

There was no hesitation from either of you. Tongues slid across one another and teeth bit down on lips in various degrees of pressures, all eliciting mewls and growls and moans. He walked you back against a wall and ripped your hands off his neck, pinning them above your head. He took a minute to ravish your neck with little love bites and suckles lifting your tank top up and over your body. When he gave you the smallest moment, your hands skipped his shirt and went straight for his belt buckle. He moaned your name through hot kisses when you dipped your hand inside.

There were no more words after that, neither of you able to form any through the lusty fog blinding you. Neither of you tried to move to his bedroom and you didn’t ever manage to remove his shirt. You never even removed your panties, simply pushed them aside for him.

When you finished, you were both hot and sweaty and breathing heavily. He was holding you up, legs around his waist and his face buried into your shoulder. He took a moment to relax, to bring himself back down before he pulled away and set you gently on your shaky feet.

The awkwardness you expected to flood the apartment never came. You both smiled and got dressed, he showed you to the bathroom to clean up, and by the time you got out, he had gotten paper plates and retrieved the forgotten food from the floor. At the end of the night, he offered to let you stay and you politely declined, promising you would another time.

—

It was silently agreed upon to keep whatever this was secret from the rest of the pack. You managed to keep your hands to yourself as much as you had previously in front of people, but carried on in private. There were no discussions about what your relationship was. You just were what you were. And eventually, it became more than hot sex. It became dinner dates and movie dates and calling each other at midnight when you couldn’t sleep. It became something with no label.

It was like that for a few more months until Peter caught some guy hitting on you at the gym. The guy was an idiot and you told him he was taken, but he just wasn’t hearing you and when Peter saw him, his blood boiled. Peter practically threw the guy against a wall and told him to get a lost. A little extreme to you, but it made you feel warm. He was protective of you. It was a nice feeling.

Later that night, he was the one to bring up the relationship and its boundaries.

“You’re not seeing anyone else are you?” he asked suddenly while you were sitting on his couch watching TV. The question confused you.

“What?” You looked at him, brow furrowed. “Why?

“Because I don’t want you to,” he stated simply. Suddenly he looked as though he had said it wrong. “I mean… I didn’t like that guy hitting on you.” You smiled gently. “I don’t share well.” He almost seemed grumpy when he said it.

“I don’t like the idea of you with anyone else either,” you told him. He looked a little relieved by that. “Neither of us share well.”

When he leaned down and kissed you, it was soft and gentle and while it eventually led into his bed, it was different. It was slow and soft and lasted longer just because you kept wanting to touch each other. Gentle kisses, hands running over each other, limbs tangling together and flipping positions, hugs where you wrapped your arms all the way around each other and breathed deeply into your necks while sliding against each other.  And when he nipped at your neck, he did it with a purpose to leave a small mark, to claim you as his. You in turn, did the same to him which pushed him over the edge, finally drawing your night to an end.

You feel asleep naked and tangled together and just before drifting off you heard him whisper “Mine,” in your ear.

—

It was only two days after that, that everything went wrong.

Some ancient creature was released from what you were convinced was the depths of hell. It was big and black with massive claws and fangs, red eyes, and one hell of a temper. It had a tail that had whipped Scott into a wall and knocked him out. It tore cops to shreds and sent a tree hurling at Stiles who barely got out of the way. In an effort to get it to stop from slicing Lydia open, you threw a flare at it.

When it turned to face you, you ran. You ran hard and fast out into the woods, trying to lure it away from people. You pushed your body past its limits and refused to look back, hearing it’s feet follow you, crushing everything it past.

It caught up to you easily and swiped it’s claws against your back. You screamed and tried to keep running, but fell, twisted your ankle on a rock and went face first into the leaves and mud. You could feel your blood start to make your shirt back sticky and wet. The pain flowed through your body and it took all of your effort to crawl up to a tree and prop your shoulder up against it.

The creature stalked you, let you lift yourself off and then actually, physically laughed at you. As it reared up onto its hind legs, you closed your eyes and waited for the attack, waited for it to end.

Instead there was a brief howl that turned into a roar of sorts. Both you and the creature turned to see Peter standing there in his wolf form, ready to attack.

“Leave. Her. Be.” Peter growled before launching himself at the beast. They became a blur of fur and blood. They bit and tore at each other. You screamed out his name desperately, tears streaming down your face. Neither were backing down. It wasn’t until an arrow landed in the creature’s skull and the Argent’s launched an array of bullets down on them that it collapsed, Peter collapsing with it.

“No!” you wailed, forcing yourself to stand, forgoing the pain and stumbling over to Peter.

His clothes were torn, his skin ripped apart. He laid on his back, eyes closed, barely breathing. You fell to your knees beside him, reaching your hands out to touch him but finding no safe place to do so. There were cuts and holes everywhere, blood nearly poured out of him. Tears blurred your vision.

“Heal!” you yelled at him. “Heal dammit!!”

They took everyone to the hospital to be checked out. They hooked Peter up to IVs and machines that beeped continuously. Once they bandaged you and put a brace on your ankle, you refused to leave his room.

He slipped in and out of consciousness. His eyes fluttered open and then closed. There was one moment, in the middle of the night when everyone else had left that he spoke. You barely heard it at first, but he repeated it.

Your name. He had said your name. You stood up and rushed to be beside him and held onto his hand. The amount of relief you felt was overwhelming. You knew it wouldn’t last, knew he’d pass out again soon, but it was something.

“I’m right here, Peter,” you whispered to him. He didn’t seem to hear you and he kept repeating her name.

“I…love her.”

—

It took him a full four days to heal and that’s when the awkwardness you thought would happen months ago finally kicked in. You weren’t sure if he remembered what he had said, it seemed nearly impossible that he would, but he acted strangely. He was awkward and avoided your eyes, didn’t know what to say to you.

“I never thanked you,” you said as you dropped him off at his apartment. You had offered to drive him home from the hospital and he hesitantly accepted. “You saved my life.” He half-heartedly shrugged, trying to brush it off.

“That’s what you do for people-“ 

“People you love?” you finished for him, afraid you would never know the truth otherwise. He stiffens slightly in the passenger seat and looks away from you.

You don’t let him look away though. You reach over and take his chin in your hand, turn his face to you. You lean yourself over the center console and press a kiss to his lips. You both take your time with it, keeping it slow and gentle, pouring things you won’t say yet into it.

When you pull away, he presses his forehead against yours and asks, “Do you want to come up?” 

—

The pack decided to have a New Year’s Eve celebration. Of course you and Peter both attend, but still keep to your previous relationship rules even though people have caught on since the whole creature incident. There’s flirting and small touches, but everything felt a little different, felt a little more serious.

When midnight drew near, Peter ventured off into the dining room, silently inviting you to join him. You found him staring out the window, watching the cold grey that filled the outside world.

“You sick of us already?” you joked. 

“You just can’t stay away from me, can you?” It sounded like something he would have said a month ago in a teasing tone, but now it was an actual question, something he wanted a real answer to. You walked up to stand next to him.

“Is there a reason I ought to?” You were afraid that this was the end. This was where he was going to end everything you had and it made you sad and nervous. He turned to look at you with sad eyes. 

“You know I could be no good for you.” You realized that once again, he was giving _you_ an out. This was where you could walk away if you wanted, where he admitted he thought he wasn’t good enough and would leave you be if that’s what you wanted. He cared.

“And I could be no good for you,” you countered him, not ready to let him go. “But I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Peter looked at you, eyes sliding from your eyes to your mouth and back up, deciding for himself what he was going to do. You both heard the pack reached the end of their countdown to midnight and Peter reached out a hand to the back of your neck. He came crashing down on you, kissing you hard and fast like he had the first time, with a passion and need that had been building up. Your hands came to his sides and grabbed fistfuls of his shift to pull him closer. He gripped the hair on the back of your head and when he pulled back, he did it with a moan.

“Here’s to a new year to find out how bad I can screw this up,” he growled. You smiled at him.

“Shut up, Peter,” you told him shaking your head.

When you rejoin the pack, you walk into the room hand in hand.


End file.
